If He Only Knew
by Asphodel
Summary: SHORT interpretations of several scenes in CoS and PoA (for now, but maybe the whole canon in the future), and how Snape really feels about lots o' stuff. 50% more angst in every bite!
1. Default Chapter

What does that little snit want now? Look at his little smug smile, so like his father, sure and confident. On top of the world, are we? Not for long, little one. But I'll play your little game. Just to keep you in my grasp.  
  
"Sir," said Malfoy loudly. "Sir, why don't you apply for the headmaster's job?"  
  
"Now, now, Malfoy," I said, holding a thin-lipped smile at the idea of killing him, or at least altering him so that there wouldn't be a threat of him producing any progeny. Especially with Pansy Parkinson. I shudder at the thought. I've seen the way she looks at him, how she covets the purported power that the Malfoys hold. Or maybe the smile is because he'll never be half the man Dumbledore is. Never.  
  
C'est la vie.  
  
I look into his smug face and answer, "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."  
  
And hopefully expel you out of this school that you don't deserve to be in, and also out of this house to which you bring a bad name. You and your father, and you army of bratty cohorts.  
  
I am trying to rebuild Slytherin. The reputation, tarnished after many years of abuse. I will see the day that it stands in the same light as the others, and not a dimmed spotlight next to Gryffindor. I just need more time. Time to flush out the Malfoys, Crabbes, and Goyles of the world. Time to flush out the evil. I can see Potter and Weasley looking at me in distaste. I must go along with this charade.  
  
"Yeah, right," said Malfoy, smirking. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job- I'll tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir -"  
  
Does the boy know any other words save 'sir'? Doubtfully. But that reference to the great Lucius Malfoy. What that child does not understand is that his father does not have ultimate control over everyone. Especially me. One day, they will be put in their Muggle-hating place. One day. Thank Merlin that he doesn't have half the intellect that she does. If he did, I fear what the world would become. Shadowed in fear and hate. But I am content, only she understands me. And only she needs to understand. And she is pure light.  
  
"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger-"  
  
Luckily, the bell rang as I whipped around in rage, nearly dropping the beaker I was holding, and giving away my pure weakness for all to see. Surprisingly, I find that I don't care about anything except making that brat regret his words. I immediately looked towards Potter and Weasley, and sure enough- they're out for some too. I knew that they were good for something after all. Setting the beaker back on the lab table, I close my eyes- and hope that the girl love with all my heart will recover from her predicament. 


	2. If He Only Knew- Chapter 2

A/N: I know that in CoS, the event in this fic happened before the events in the chapter 1 of If He Only Knew- so consider this a prequel of sorts. On with the show.  
  
  
  
Steely silence. My response to what I feel is an incredible blow to my inner sanctum of sanity. While that idiot Lockhart is making a fool of himself in his ridiculous robes, his stack of valentines has been staring me in the face. Of course he would carry them around with him. Arrogant bastard. What's this? Something draws me towards the pile of gaudiness that has penetrated my personal space on the table. I imperceptibly lean in closer for a better look. It's not like he wasn't practically asking us to ask about them in the faculty meeting.  
  
Hers is on top. Love, Hermione Granger. Shame on me for falling for a schoolgirl with schoolgirl crushes. She is so much wiser than her years, but still can't see how annoyingly false this man is. Lust makes us blind, love makes us realize. I know that one day we will have each other. You know, I bet Minerva would kill me for my thoughts if she weren't so put off by Lockhart at the moment.  
  
I notice that I'm clenching my teeth. It hurts, but then I have grown used to concealing my torment. I hope no one tries to talk to me, I cannot control my actions. Oh wait, here comes grandiose Gilderoy with his announcement. I 'm mildly surprised Dumbledore agreed to this.  
  
Wait, no I'm not.  
  
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I think the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all- and it doesn't end here!"  
  
Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.  
  
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fin doesn't stop here! I'm making sure my colleagues will want to enter the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion!"  
  
Oh, he did not just say what I think he did.  
  
"And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"  
  
There are going to be heads rolling at the next faculty meeting. As I'm looking at the short man a few seats down from me, irrevocably embarrassed, a figure catches my attention from the corner of my peripheral vision. There goes Hermione, red-faced and dashing out of the Great Hall, with Potter and Weasley looking at her retreating back with a mixture of disgust, and disbelief. Methinks that they asked her about this sugary valentine with which I've become obsessed. I know all too well that when I go back to my classroom, there will be no heart-shaped monstrosity with my name, signed with a loopy signature. But I can wait for her to mature, and I can wait in general, because I know she will be worth it. 


	3. If He Only Knew- Chapter 3

A/N: Well, here's the third chapter of 'If He Only Knew.' Thanks for all your constructive criticisms, they went a long way in helping me! I'm going to address my motives behind such a squidgy relationship between Hermione and Severus. As far as you all (and me) are aware, this is a non sexual, one sided relationship. Kinda off, but so is Severus in his own little way. Perhaps there is motive behind his madness?? N'est pas? *insert dramatic music here*  
  
I've also moved on to PoA. I know that there's probably a lot in CoS that I could have dissected, but a girl gets inspired.  
  
--  
  
I think I am going to go insane. Neville Longbottom. His parents were outstanding wizards, and here he is. Dumbledore told me that his 'incompetence' is due to his previous trauma. I am sympathetic, but when I refused to change my teaching style to accommodate him, he grew frightened, and I grew exasperated. An exasperated Severus Snape is not a good thing. I figure that if I am blatantly honest with him, he will choose to work as hard as she does, if for anything, so that I will leave him alone. Thus far, my theory has not worked. And I had so hoped it would have.  
  
His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid free, had turned-  
  
I turned around, and I briefly swore in my head when I saw his cauldron. I could tell immediately where he had gone wrong. Shaky hands and a shaky confidence, both are things that Potions masters must guard against. You will fail if you do not have coordination, or believe that what you are doing will work. Unfortunately, he has both of those shaky traits. I wonder if he knows how many Galleons he costs this school each year, just to replace his melted cauldrons and ruined ingredients. I almost feel sorry for his situation, but I cannot allow lenience.  
  
"Orange, Longbottom," I said, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?  
  
Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.  
  
Then she spoke, commanding my attention.  
  
"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right-"  
  
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," I said coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville.  
  
I felt a twinge of guilt as I said those words to her. But I am right- she will not be there for the rest of Neville's life. He must learn for himself.  
  
"Long bottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."  
  
I moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.  
  
I knew what he was going to do, after witnessing him ask her thousands of times- and I knew that she would not have the capacity in her heart to refuse him help, despite my order. She was quite admirable in that way, bolstering in the face of adversity. And equally frustrating.  
  
"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.  
  
How ironic. Neville and I are quite similar in some ways- we both recognize that Hermione is the only one who can save us from ourselves. 


	4. If He Only Knew- Chapter 4

A/N: Alright, alright, settle down, everyone- I am fully aware that Hermione is only 12 years old. Or 13, as the case may be. And as far as you and I are concerned, this is a non-sexual, and totally one-sided perspective. I only present this unique interpretation into Snape's psyche *because* (bold-italicized-underlined) there must be roots to Snape/Granger shipping. Even though the bulk of the fics written today are about Hermione falling in love with Severus, or vice versa, when she returns to Hogwarts or encounters Snape when she is much older, but I figure that there may be roots in attraction. I present these vignettes as a 'method of madness.' I don't want to be crass, but although I accept these objections- it isn't like I'm going to have him jump her little body. I have a bit more respect for the characters. And thus far, besides a few mentions- he has fallen in love with her mind- which has always been more mature than perhaps the rest of her.  
  
I appreciate the honesty in which I have been reviewed- but take into perspective that I cannot interpret these books this way if she is older. But assuredly, she will be older one day- even if I have to make it up by the seat of my pants.  
  
This is a story about Severus Snape, yes. But more, this is a tribute to Hermione's mind. A mind is an attractive thing surely, so why not expose the power of hers? And keep in mind, while I am a SS/HG shipper, I am not going to have them consummate something until she is of age. That is, if the flamethrowers don't toss me to the dogs and boggarts first.  
  
Thank you for reading, and also for your comments- even those I read twice in disbelief. I love all my reviewers, and I hope that you stick with me!  
  
Especially now that this one is a longer chapter. *wink* A lot longer.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 4: Lupin's Class  
  
Potter. The golden boy. At times, he is quite bearable, but then I always remember the times that Minerva talked about how Potter and Weasley "deserted Hermione," or "Hermione was crying because Potter and Weasley, etcetera." It seems as though every year they seem to nick into that glorious strength of her confidence, and reduces her to tears. Especially this year, when she has taken it upon herself to take as many subjects as possible. She does it to further her knowledge, as opposed to my reasons when I was at school. Surely I wanted the knowledge, but I yearned for the isolation. I subjected myself to isolation so that I wouldn't have to see James Potter be celebrated for his frivolous victories. James Potter and his friends, charming to the last. But then there was quiet Severus, excelling quietly in the Slytherin house- until my achievements, celebrated or not, attracted the attentions of Voldemort.  
  
"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."  
  
Harry didn't move.  
  
He must be in shock. He probably thinks that I killed Remus. Not that I probably wouldn't have before.  
  
"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said.  
  
Warily, I note.  
  
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," I said with a small smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"  
  
He probably thinks that I'm smiling because Remus is indisposed at the moment, but honestly, this is my first chance to teach Dark Arts, and fortunately, I am allowed a bit more time with her. I relish every moment that I can spend in her presence. Even now, I can see her in my peripheral vision. But directly in front of me, however-  
  
Harry stayed where he was.  
  
He is quite trying at times. He barges in here late, and then demands an explanation for something he need not know, and has no business knowing? I will not play his games, and I think that he should know it. Harsh, but a reality check.  
  
"Nothing life-threatening," I said, but I know that I looked as though I wished he were. Old habits die hard. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."  
  
Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. I looked around at the class.  
  
Where the hell did he put all his notes and papers? Potter has slightly irritated me. No, greatly irritated me. I am already on edge. That's not good. And I also have a headache. Wonderful. I hope that no one talks.  
  
"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far-"  
  
Disorganized fool. I have no idea what, oh, wait, someone's talking. She's talking. Oh, please no, I don't want to say anything out of line to you, but you just picked the worst time to talk, Hermione. I cannot be held accountable for my words, that Potter was the straw that broke the camel's back.  
  
"Please sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start-"  
  
"Be quiet," I said coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization.  
  
I didn't mean for that to come out so.cruelly, but I must regather my wits. If I could take away my words, I would, but between Potter and Lupin's terrible parchment keeping, I'm too tired and strung out.  
  
"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class.  
  
I know that I looked more menacing than ever. Fabulous. As much as I appreciate a woman with power, riling your classmates against me is not going to resolve this. Well, it will, but they will regret what may happen. If only I had taken some Dreamless Sleep potion last night, I would be a lot less irritable. You filled my dreams, and I thought that I would rather be tormented all night than risk losing the feel your strength and confidence with me. If only I had been given the job, instead of Dumbledore bringing Lupin back here. All of you would be prepared; I would make sure of it. I do not allow lenience, Mr. Thomas. Maybe that's why you like Lupin so much as your grades tumble in Potions.  
  
"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you- I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we will discuss-"  
  
I turned to the very back of the textbook, and smiled to myself. Surely no one else understands, but frankly, I do not care. I appreciate the irony, and that's enough for me.  
  
"-werewolves," I said.  
  
"But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks-"  
  
Oh, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. I must keep up this façade of cruelty. And I am very sorry for my words. As I often am.  
  
"Miss Granger," I said in a calm voice, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"  
  
I don't know how she took my calm voice. It seemed a bit foreboding in my head, and so it must have been magnified as such when it came out. It really was an attempt to calm the tirade, but then after I got those evil looks, I got angry. And now I'm feeling quite vindictive.  
  
"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?  
  
I asked.  
  
Everyone say in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.  
  
"Anyone?" I said, ignoring Hermione. My twisted smile was back. "are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between-"  
  
I am astounded that she would read the entire book, but not surprised. She is brilliant, really. I covet her mind, and I can't resist smiling at her potential. However, I have to ignore her for the greater good. No student will ever match you, Hermione, and I want them all to realize it.  
  
"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on-"  
  
Parvati. If she would only get her head out of Trelawney's clouds, she would probably understand the meaning of shut up. But however, I will be more than glad to drive home the point. Parvati wastes too much time in Divination. And now I know that I'm not the only person to have rejected that practice. We both hate Divination. Hermione and I think quite alike, and I can only hope that one day she realizes it.  
  
"Silence!" I snarled. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third- year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are-"  
  
Yes, Severus, bring out the false threats. I have to turn away from that eager hand, raised and waving. I am too tempted to call on her, but I know that others will ridicule her for showing off.  
  
"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of a werewolf-"  
  
"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," I said coolly, not betraying the pride that I feel for you. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."  
  
Why worry about others ridiculing her when you can do it yourself, Severus? If I could bang my head on Lupin's desk, I would. I didn't mean it. Phenomenal, she hates you even more.  
  
Hermione went very red, pit down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed my words since they were all glaring at me. All of them had called Hermione a know- it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"  
  
Point, Weasley. I know that everyone is glaring at me. And right now, my brain is glaring at my mouth for speaking without thinking. Oh, if I could take back, Hermione, I would. If I could take away your tears, I would. If I could never make you cry again, I would. I have become the ideal for which I hated Potter and Weasley. I attacked her strength, and now my guilt is all -encompassing. I'm sorry. But I cannot allow Weasley's cockiness to overrule me. No one takes that tone with me. I hope you understand.  
  
The class knew instantly he'd gone too far. I advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.  
  
"Detention, Weasley," I said silkily, my face very close to Ron's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."  
  
And I mean it. If you ever criticize the way I teach, the man I am, the man I want to become- I will make you regret it.  
  
But wouldn't you know, after all of the dramatics during this short period, I finally got what I wanted-  
  
No one made a sound through the rest of the lesson.  
  
They say and made noted on werewolves from the textbook, while I prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.  
  
Honestly, how are these children learning anything? I admit, I hate the man, but that's not why I am overtly critical of his work. In fact, he and I have been on somewhat amicable terms, since I have been concocting Wolfsbane for him. Perhaps he is letting his personal problems affect his teaching. This is really not acceptable. If they keep misunderstanding the fundamentals of Dark Arts- how will they survive?  
  
"Very poorly explained- That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia.Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three-"  
  
The bell finally rang, reverberating in my head, and I held them back.  
  
"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody too this class in hand."  
  
I can not allow the disobedience and disrespect that was inflicted upon me to go past this classroom. One person does not truly deserve this punishment, but I cannot single her out. But I know that my assignment will allow her to show me what she knows, and that is all she wanted to do in the first place. This is my apology to her. And hers will be the only one I read.  
  
"Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."  
  
Bedpans, methinks.  
  
A/N Post: I realized after I posted this story that ff.net does not allow for triple periods. This explains why I've been getting some grammar comments. I'm so mad right now! Anyways, I sacrificed some aesthetic flow for the sake of proper pauses. I don't want there to be any mistake about why sentences end without resolution. And I'm sorry for the proliferation of dashes, they were the way I chose to solve this problem. I will go back and read the other chapters and see what amendments I can make. Thanks! 


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